The fisher-boy slept very little that night. He was thinking of Tom's new plan, and the more he turned the matter over in his mind, the nearer he came to a determination to give a favorable answer on the following evening. He was deeply interested in the lottery, and remembering how confidently Tom had spoken of his success, he could not help giving full sway to his fancy, and picturing to himself a host of pleasant things that would happen when he should come into possession of his share of the prize. In the first place, their humble cabin on the beach could be exchanged for a nice little cottage in a more respectable part of the village; he could turn the Go Ahead adrift in the harbor, and buy a nice little schooner, like the one he had met on his voyage home from his fishing-grounds; he and his brothers could throw away their ragged clothes, and dress as well as any boys in the village; and, after all these things had been done, there would still be enough left to support the family in fine style while he was at sea.

For the first time in his life, Bob's imagination ran wild with him, and he became so excited that he could not lie still. There was only one obstacle in his way that he could discover, but that was one that could not be easily got over. He had always been in the habit of giving every cent he earned to his mother for safe keeping, and he did not know how to go to work to get the five dollars to invest in the lottery. If he asked his mother for the money, she would, no doubt, want to know what use he intended to make of it; and that was a question that Bob would not have cared to answer. This ought to have been sufficient to convince him that Tom's scheme was not altogether right, and that he ought to have nothing whatever to do with it. But the fisher-boy did not think of that. He had been carried away by Tom's arguments, and it was very easy for him to believe that, even if he was obliged to make use of a little deception in order to secure his twenty-five hundred dollars, there would be no harm in it.

Bob arose the next morning at six o'clock, unrefreshed, and as sleepy as when he went to bed the night before. After a hasty breakfast he started for the harbor, and taking up a position opposite to his pier, he sat down in his boat to wait for a passenger. The Go Ahead was comparatively dry; for, during the previous evening, the fisher-boy had hauled her out upon the beach and carefully caulked all the seams and cracks, and he hoped that her improved appearance would enable him to secure one or two extra passengers. Of course Tom's scheme was still uppermost in his mind, and, as he sat in his scow thinking it over, he happened to cast his eye toward the upper end of the harbor, and saw Sam Barton and several of his particular friends in their boats, holding a consultation. Presently they separated and took up their positions near the middle of the harbor, Sam and two other good oarsmen stationing themselves near the fisher-boy. Bob understood the meaning of all these movements, for he had often seen the same thing done before, when Sam happened to get into a quarrel with any of the ferry-boys. He knew that if he wished to earn any money that morning he must work hard for it; for it was the bully's intention to prevent him from taking any passengers across the harbor. The fisher-boy, however, was not at all alarmed. Pulling off his hat, he put it carefully away under one of the thwarts, rolled up his sleeves, and standing up in his boat, kept a firm hold of his oar.

"You're goin' to fight for it, are you, Bobby Jennings?" asked Sam, who had observed all these movements. "Better look out!"

"I am looking out," replied the fisher-boy. "I am keeping my eyes open for passengers, and I'm going to get as many as I can. You may depend upon that."

"Well, I'll bet you a dollar that all the customers you'll get this mornin' won't make you rich," returned Sam. "An' now look a-here, Bobby Jennings! we've seed you in this harbor often enough; we don't want you here; and, if you would get out of Fishertown by sunset, you would make us mighty glad——Yes, sir; comin', sir!"

But Sam, as usual, was just a minute too late. As was generally the case, Bob's scow made good her name, for she went ahead of the bully's fine yawl very easily; and then began a most exciting race, which was witnessed by three men who were waiting to be carried across the harbor. In obedience to the instructions they had received the evening before, every ferry-boy who believed he stood the least chance of reaching the wharf first started for the passengers, each of them intent on "cutting out that ar Bobby Jennings." A single glance showed the fisher-boy the state of affairs, and, although his chances for winning were very poor indeed, as some of the boats were nearer to the wharf than his own, he bent to his oar with the determination to beat them all, and to show the bully and his friends that, if they intended to drive him off the harbor by taking his passengers away from him, they had something of a task before them.

The majority of the boats were very soon overtaken and left behind, and then the contest was between Bob and his old rival. Both had resolved to win, and the men who were standing upon the wharf began to get excited.

"Half a dollar to the boy who reaches the wharf first!" shouted one of them, putting his hand into his pocket. "Give way strong, you little fellow in that clumsy scow."

Bob heard the words of encouragement, and from that moment he believed the race was his. The men on the wharf sympathized with him, and wanted him to win, and he was bound to do it. It was of no use for Sam to redouble his efforts, for the Go Ahead left him behind so rapidly that it seemed as if the fisher-boy had only been playing with him thus far, and was now going to show him how badly he could beat him. He did not reach the wharf until Bob was about to shove off with his passengers, and then he came up with his usual cry:

"Here's the boat you've been a-waitin fur; you want cushions to set down on."

"No, we don't," replied one of the men; "we're goin' to take passage with the best oarsman in the harbor. Clear the track with that old tub of yours! Here's your half a dollar, boy," he added, handing the money to Bob, and patting him on the back.

Before the fisher-boy put his fare into his pocket, he could not help holding it up to the view of Sam and the rest of his rivals, who stood up in their boats wiping their faces and foaming with rage. Sam made no remark, but he shook his head threateningly, and Bob knew that the matter was far from being settled. This did not trouble him, however, for he was an independent sort of a fellow, and the bully was a boy whose friendship he cared nothing about. Besides, he thought that, if Sam was foolish enough to get angry because he had been beaten in a fair race, he might take his own time to get pleased again. The fisher-boy landed his passengers safely upon the opposite wharf, and, as he pulled toward the middle of the harbor again, he saw that Sam and his friends were holding another consultation. The bully was shaking his fists in the air and talking loudly, and Bob was almost certain that they would change their tactics, and attempt to gratify their revenge by giving him a good beating, and treating him to a bath in the harbor.

"I shall call it a mean trick, if they try to thrash me," said Bob, pulling his oar out of the water and balancing it in his hand. "This piece of hickory is pretty tough, and, if they pitch into me, I think they will find that I am about as hard to whip as any boy they have got hold of lately."

The fisher-boy, knowing that he had as much right in the harbor as any one, had determined to stand his ground as long as possible; but, with all his courage and confidence in his ability to beat his rivals at their own game, he could not help feeling a little anxiety when he thought what might be the result of this second council of war. He was very much relieved to see that, when the meeting broke up, they did not advance toward him in a body, as he had expected they would, but quietly took up their stations as before.

At length, half a dozen ship-carpenters appeared upon the wharf, and, in an instant, the ferry-boats were in motion. In spite of all they could do to prevent it, Bob again took the lead, and a short distance behind him came Sam Barton, shaking his head and muttering to himself, and moving his oar viciously about in the water, as if he had determined to vent all his spite upon it. Bob reached the wharf first, and, flushed with excitement, and proud of his second triumph over the bully, turned to look at Sam. He saw the latter give one glance over his shoulder, and then come on like the wind—the sharp bow of his heavy yawl cutting the water like a knife. In an instant, Bob's exultant smile gave way to a look of astonishment and alarm.

"Hold on, there!" he shouted, with all the strength of his lungs; "you'll run me down!"

"Out of the way, there, Bobby Jennings," yelled Sam, never once slackening his speed or turning from his course; "here comes the boat the gentlemen's seen."

"Sheer off, there, Sam Barton!" shouted the fisher-boy again, seizing his oar and attempting to scull his boat out of the way. But it was too late; the yawl came on with all the speed the bully's practiced arms could give it, and, striking the scow fair in the side, it smashed in the planks as if they had been pipe-stems, and, before Bob could tell what was going on, he found himself floating about in the cold waters of the harbor.

With an appearance of amazement that was well assumed, Sam, with one sweep of his oar, brought his yawl broadside to the wharf, and gazed at the wreck he had made; then, discovering the fisher-boy floating about in the water, he exclaimed:

"Why, Bobby Jennings, is that you?"

"I don't think there is any need of your asking that question," returned the fisher-boy, angrily; "I hope you are satisfied, now!"

"Why, Bobby, I had no idea that I was so clost to you," said Sam, who could scarcely conceal his exultation from the men on the wharf. "Here! ketch hold of this oar, an' I'll haul you in."

"I can take care of myself," was the reply.

"Why, Bobby, may I be sunk in the harbor this very minute, if I"——.

"That will do, Sam," exclaimed the fisher-boy, striking out for a vessel that lay along-side the wharf, a little distance off. "You need not talk to me; I know all about it."

The bully, anxious to conceal the real facts of the case from the ship-carpenters, loudly protested that it was all an accident—that he was innocent of any intention to disable the scow—and he even followed Bob as he swam toward the vessel; but the latter would not listen to him; he knew that Sam had sunk his boat on purpose, and he did not wish to speak to him again, if he could avoid it.

There was a staging moored along-side the vessel which had been placed there by some caulkers, who were then about to begin their day's work, and Bob crawled upon it, climbed up the ropes to the deck, and so reached the wharf. He walked to the spot where the collision had occurred, but nothing was to be seen of the Go Ahead. She had brought in her last load of fish, finished her work of carrying passengers across the harbor, and her wreck was at that moment lying beneath the waters which had so often been the scenes of her triumphs. Clumsy and leaky as she was, she had been of great service to the fisher-boy, and he felt her loss severely. He had built her himself, had sailed many a long mile in her up and down the bay, and it was no wonder that the tears started to his eyes when he gazed at the spot where she had disappeared. Sam Barton stood in his yawl, which lay at a little distance from the wharf, watching the movements of his discomfited rival, and, now that there was no one near to observe him, or to overhear what he had to say, he did not seem to be so very sorry for what he had done; on the contrary, he smiled grimly, and said, in an insulting tone:

"What did I tell you, Bobby Jennings? Didn't I say that you shouldn't run no craft, except my skiff, in this ere harbor? I guess you won't go round beatin' fellers an' winnin' half-dollars now. If you want to make friends with me, you know where I live."

So saying, the bully started off to hunt up a passenger, leaving the fisher-boy gazing thoughtfully down into the water. He had scarcely heard what Sam was saying, for he was trying to think up some plan for raising the Go Ahead. Wouldn't it be a glorious triumph for him if he could coax her to the surface of the water again, repair her, and take her back into the harbor to trouble Sam Barton and the rest of his rivals? If he only had a rope made fast to her, he could, with a little assistance, haul her upon the wharf; and he was confident that, in one day's time, he could fix her up as good as new. But, after thinking the matter over, Bob was forced to come to the conclusion that he might as well try to hit upon the best plan for pulling the earth up to the sun, for the one was, to him, almost as hard a feat to accomplish as the other. The water was much too deep for him to dive down with a rope; and, even if he had a line made fast to her, where could he raise force enough to hoist her upon the wharf? Certainly not among the ferry-boys, for they had all sided with Sam against him. Beyond a doubt, he had seen the last of the Go Ahead; and, as he came to this conclusion, the tears started to his eyes again, and he walked hastily away from the spot.